Reflections
by Yashahime
Summary: Yet another short. In this one, Hao reflects on...stuff, proving that he is, after all, still human.


Reflections  
By Yasha-hime

You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.  
Actually, an omelet sounds really tasty right about now.  One with bacon, green peppers, onions, a little bit of Worcestershire sauce, and a double hit of hot pepper cheese, fried up over a mesquite fire...  
But I digress.  
You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs; likewise, you can't rebuild a world without a few deaths.  It's regrettable, certainly!  But any half-way decent doctor will tell you a cancer needs to be removed and killed, and sometimes you may even have to sacrifice some healthy flesh along with it to truly exorcise the cancer.  
I wish people would understand that about me.  It's not that I **like** killing.  There's a vast difference between liking to kill and being able to kill.  I can kill whenever I find it necessary, without agonizing over it.  That's not to say I feel no remorse for it--far from it, in fact.  For each and every life I have taken, each and every life I have caused another to take, I hold a prayer in my heart.  I remember them all--and in the course of a thousand years of living, I've found many good reasons to kill.  
An omelet is not a good enough reason to kill.  Not even if it's the last one to come out of the pan.  But right now I could cheerfully at least threaten death for an omelet.  
I believe I should get something to eat.  Maybe then I can stop thinking about omelets.  It's just a terrible shame there's no one on this benighted island who'd be willing to offer me a few slices of hot pepper cheese and some eggs.  If indeed anyone on this island has any hot pepper cheese.  Eggs I'm sure I could find.  
I hope this sudden craving for an omelet doesn't mean my spirit is hungry.  It's always distasteful to feed it.  Killing is one thing, but eating souls is rather chilling.  Still, if the Spirit of Fire is hungry, I'll have to find someone for it to eat.  I'd certainly rather not be the meal myself.  At least I can keep the Spirit under control; it would be truly regrettable to have all the world's best shamans crisped like ants under a magnifying glass.  
Then the world would be doomed to drown in its own wastes, with no spiritual 'doctor' to excise the cancer.  A grotesque image at best, isn't it?  I and mine are the only ones who seem to be able to see that the pain of killing off the cancer now will be nothing compared to the pain of letting it continue.  This is a time of drastic action.  
Why can't Yoh understand that?  I wonder about that with nearly every waking moment.  Why can't he see that only the shamans are fit to survive?  He's so much like me--he knows the pain of being outcast simply for being superior, he knows what it's like to be alone all the time.  I've never understood why he thinks pretending to be inferior helps.  One's superiority always shines through.  
If he were anyone else, I'd simply kill him and be done with it already.  But I could never kill Yoh.  Yoh is my heart.  
Well, that sounds melodramatic, doesn't it?  But in a peculiar sense, it's true.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not hot for his body or anything like that.  It's not romantic or sexual or anything.  Though I wouldn't mind getting a little closer to that icy blond of his.  
Actually, Yoh has been my heart since before I was born...this time.  I know a person isn't supposed to remember the womb, but I always have.  Well, maybe not the first time around.  Okay, so maybe only this one time.  I remember being in the womb with Yoh, listening to our mother's heartbeat.  
More importantly, I remember listening to Yoh's heartbeat.  Back then we were always together.  Literally and spiritually.  Yoh's very presence healed some of the scars on my soul.  Yoh always understood me and always loved me.  
Unfortunately, then we were born, and I've spent almost ever since desperately wishing for that closeness again.  And now that I've found my heart again, he rejects me at every turn.  All I can do is keep trying; one day I'm sure he'll understand me again.  
I wonder if Yoh has any hot pepper cheese...?

Owari 

Author's Notes:  
Never try to write a fic when you're hungry. ¬.¬ I wanted a nice, lonely, angsty darkfic. Hao wanted an omelet.  
Well, I didn't get my angst, and Hao didn't get his omelet. I guess we're even. Except now I'm going to have to cook Hao an omelet.

Who ruins perfectly good eggs with Worcestershire sauce, anyway!? - Y. 


End file.
